7

 

Rebecca closed her office door and poured a cup of coffee before settling into the chair at her desk. The packet of papers Cole had delivered with Kimmy that morning sat unopened. So much for being touted as the most efficient preschool in Mill’s Landing. Despite her best efforts, the morning had been a disaster.

Cole’s arrival, and her first glimpse of Kimmy, sent Rebecca’s pulse into overdrive with a ton of questions she longed to ask. Was it possible the miracle she’d hoped for—a reunion with her daughter—had finally come, or was this just another dead end?

Either way, uneasiness took up residence in her belly. She hadn’t given much thought to what came next.

The questions were set aside when Mrs. Penlin called in sick—her twins had the sniffles—and Rebecca had no choice but to fill in until a substitute teacher arrived.

Then the health inspector made an unexpected visit. Thank God all was in order there, as usual. But his list of questions set Rebecca way behind in paperwork. Finally, with merely an hour left before closing time, she made it back to her desk.

She slipped Cole’s papers from the packet and sorted through them. His handwriting would take a little detective work to decipher, but all seemed in order. Though her heart pounded, she took her time as she scanned each form, painstakingly cataloguing the information into the appropriate folders stored on her computer. Emergency contacts, pediatrician, allergies, birthday—

September sixth. It’s a match.

She shook it off. There were a handful of days here at the preschool where three children shared the same birthday, and several more when the event was celebrated by two. That didn’t make the children related—merely born at the same time.

Rebecca paused as she turned to the back of the medical form. Under special notes, Cole had scrawled: Blood type O negative.

Rebecca’s breath caught. O negative happened to be her blood type, as well. What were the chances…?

She started a list: Birthday, check. Blood type, check. Adopted, double check. And the uncanny resemblance—

“Rebecca? Are you there?” A knock on the door, followed by the sound of Cole’s voice, startled her.

“Just a minute.” She realized she was crying. She reached for a tissue from the box on her desk and cleared her throat as she swiped her eyes.

“May I come in? I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, of course.” Rebecca gathered the papers and smoothed her blouse. “The door’s unlocked.”

“Thanks.” The knob turned and he stepped inside. His tie was loose again, and his gray eyes were shadowed. The feelings she had for him came rushing back. She remembered the kindness he’d shown her not so many years ago. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not. Come in.” She glanced at her watch, urging her pulse to steady. “You’re early.”

“Yeah. I rescheduled my last appointment.” His gaze captured hers. “Are you crying?”

She shifted in the seat, dipping her head as she smoothed her skirt. “I, um…just a little.”

He leaned against the wall, jamming his hands into his pockets. “We need to talk.”

“I think so, too.”

“Sounds serious.” His lips curved into a tentative grin as he stumbled for a bit of humor, though the look in his eyes was uncertain. “Time for fingerprints, huh?”

“You could say that.”

Cole nodded, stepping away from the wall. He slipped into a chair across the desk across from her. “I’m not sure I’m going to like this.”

Rebecca paused a heartbeat, two. Her voice caught. “I think you have my daughter.”

 

****

 

Though he had an idea they were coming, the words were a blow to Cole. “Kimmy? She’s my daughter.”

“But you adopted her.”

“So, that doesn’t make her any less my child.”

“Or any less mine.”

“If she is yours.”

Rebecca handed him the list. “The proof is evident. How could you do this, Cole? You must have known there was more to the story the adoption counselor fed you.”

He scanned what she’d written, his pulse raging with each item. With a heated burst of frustration, he tossed the note aside. “This is ludicrous. I assure you Kimmy’s adoption was above-board. I’d never—”

“You’re an attorney.” Her gaze narrowed in teary accusation. “You must have seen the parade of red flags.”

“There were no red flags, just a child who needed a family and a family who needed her.”

“I need her, Cole. I’ve been looking for over three years.”

“That doesn’t prove she’s your daughter.”

Rebecca stood to pace the length of the office. “You might be an attorney, Cole, but I know my rights, too. Kimmy and I have the same blood type.”

“O negative?” So, he’d finally found someone. He never imagined it would happen this way. He told himself the bite in her tone was fueled by frustration and fear. He remembered another time, at the arena, when hurt and vulnerability had reduced her to a puddle of tears. He’d shown gentleness then, and the effort had sliced through her pain. Could he manage to reach her now? “So do a million other people. It’s just a fluke, Becca.”

“She was born the same day as my daughter.”

A chill turned Cole’s nerves to ice. “Even so, that’s not proof.”

“There’s DNA testing.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course, if I have to.” She dabbed her nose with the tissue. “I’d hope you’d agree to it and cooperate. It’s the least you can do.”

“And if the testing proves she’s your daughter, Becca, at least genetically…?” He shook his head as his efforts at gentleness waned. With great effort, he steadied his voice. “You’d try to take Kimmy from everything she knows and loves?”

“I…I never thought of it this way…that my daughter would be happy and healthy, in the care of a man who’s so capable—and who loves her so.”

The words tamed the anger seething just beneath his patience. “Even if she is your daughter, you’re not the only victim here, Becca. Kimmy’s a victim, too. So am I.” He lowered his voice as he rounded the desk to place a hand on her shoulder. “Put yourself in our shoes.”

“I’m sorry, Cole.” Tears spilled over as she pressed her cheek to his hand. “I never thought of it from her perspective.”

“Oh, Becca.” Her tears nearly undid Cole. He was on the precipice of losing everything he loved. What should he do—fight? And, if he chose that route, how would it affect Kimmy? What, if anything, was fair about the situation? Why was it happening? “This is a mess, isn’t it? I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want to hurt Kimmy…or you.” She shuddered and gasped, leaning into him. “What are we going to do?”

A small voice inside nudged Cole. Put your fears aside and choose kindness, for Kimmy’s sake.

“It’s going to be OK.” He pulled another tissue from the box on her desk and handed it to her. “We’re both adults. We’ll work this out.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet.” Cole uncrossed his arms and took a step toward her. “But we’ll find a way. I promise. I don’t want to be your enemy, Rebecca.” He touched her copper curls and stroked a palm down her tear-dampened cheek. “It won’t do either of us any good. Besides, I care about you too much to cause you any more pain. Let’s just take one step at a time and try to sort this out.”

“And Kimmy?”

“She knows she’s adopted. Leah and I told her from the time she was old enough to understand what it means. It’s never been a secret, Becca. But I don’t think we should say anything now, until we know for sure…until we’ve sorted this out.”

“And then?”

“God will take care of things, Bec. If I know nothing else for certain, at least I’m sure of that.”

 

****

 

Rebecca stared through the office window as Cole and Kimmy crossed the parking lot. They were a pair, hands clasped as Kimmy skipped to keep up with him. A paper flapped in one hand as the breeze caught it—a drawing Kimmy had sketched during playtime.

Her chatter drifted through the open window along with the scent of fresh-mowed grass. Rebecca swiped a hand across her tear-stained cheek as she listened.

“Miss Rebecca’s nice, Daddy. She has lots of puzzles, and all kinds of toys and books. And she can braid, Daddy.” Kimmy showed him her woven hair; Rebecca had fixed it for her while they waited for the other children to arrive that morning.

“It’s beautiful, sweetie.”

“Maybe she can come to our house.” Kimmy tilted her head to gaze up at Cole. “And you can cook macaroni and cheese, and she can meet Buttercup.”

Rebecca pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle a sob. The vision was almost more than she could bear.

“What if she doesn’t like cats?” Cole’s voice was strained. Rebecca imagined he struggled to hide his emotions for Kimmy’s sake.

“Everyone likes cats, Daddy. Especially cuddly cats like Buttercup.”

“I don’t know…”

“Can we ask her, Daddy? Pretty please?”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Oh, yes, Daddy. I do.”